Better This Way
by grelca
Summary: There needs to be more post-ep fics for Be Cool. So I wrote one.


_Because I love you_.

But the words die in his throat. He knows there's every chance she'll say it back, and his resolve to walk away would crumble if he heard those words from her lips.

It's better this way.

They'll both hurt for a while, but it'll be nothing compared to the pain they'll feel when he inevitably blows this thing up.

He reminds himself that he's doing her a favor. A little bit suffering now to prevent total heartbreak further down the line.

He loves her too much to put her through that. How long could he really make this work? Six months? A year? The longer he keeps up this charade that he believes he can make her happy, the worse it will be when he causes them to implode.

So he apologizes instead. He fights the instinct to wrap her in his arms one last time before walking out the door, forces himself not to think about the look in her eyes when she asked him why.

It's better this way.

It becomes his mantra. When she avoids his gaze on the subway. When she recoils from an accidental touch. When he finds her asleep on the doctors' lounge sofa and allows himself to brush the stray hairs from her face, his fingers lingering behind her ear.

He knows that they can't immediately go back to what they were before. It will take time.

Most days, he thinks he can handle the waiting. He can bide his time until she's ready. But right now, he's dying inside. Right now, not being able to just _talk to her_ is eating him alive. Right now, he doesn't know how much longer he can take this.

But it's better this way.

Those words are beginning to lose their meaning. Just today, he's had to stop himself from bursting into her office to confess everything three times. Because he needs her. He needs to know that they can salvage something of the relationship they had. He can't keep spending every day without his best friend.

He leaves early. He doesn't have any more patients today, and he's unable to deal with her proximity. He says he's going to the gym, but instead he finds himself walking into the bar across the street from her building.

She finds him there, drowning his sorrows in top shelf tequila.

* * *

When he wakes up, he's surrounded by her scent. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the too-familiar combined fragrance of her shampoo and body lotion, before opening his eyes. After blinking a few times to adjust to the darkness, he knows he's in her bedroom. But she isn't here with him.

Of course she isn't.

He rises from the bed in search of her, still unsteady from the alcohol. He finds her in the living room, flipping through what looks like an old photo album. She's quiet, and he clears his throat behind her, unsure if she even knows he's there.

He hears her inhale as she closes the book in her lap, but she doesn't lift her head or turn around to face him. He can't help but wonder what he'd see in her eyes if she did. When she raises a hand to wipe her face, he realizes that she's crying again.

Before he can consider that her tears might be about something other than him, she sobs his name and he moves around the couch to kneel in front of her. All he wants is to fix this. To fix them. He doesn't ever want to be the reason she cries. And he knows he can't go on missing her like crazy, waiting for her to be over him.

How can this be better?

She grabs fistfuls of his shirt and drags him up onto the couch next to her. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, the intensity of her sobs increasing. His can feel tears forming and a tightness in his throat, hating himself for making her feel this way.

He wraps her in an embrace, rubbing her back an effort to try to help her calm down. He places a kiss in her hair, and allows himself to whisper the words there that he knows she won't hear.

_I love you_.

It's the first time he's said the words aloud, and somehow finally uttering them makes him suddenly stronger. He thinks they could do this. They could really make it. It probably won't ever be easy with them, but as long as they're together, won't it be worth the work?

He moves his hands to her face and pulls back from her before resting his forehead against hers. His own tears have begun to fall, but he doesn't care. He wipes the moisture from her cheeks with one hand and strokes her hair with the other. He waits until she opens her eyes and meets his gaze before he softly says it again.

"I love you, Mindy. I love you so fucking much."

She grabs his face with both of her hands and crushes her lips to his.

* * *

He wakes up in her bed again, but this time she's there, too. He can't remember the last time he felt this sense of contentment, or if he even ever has.

She's asleep next to him, a hand resting on his chest. She looks peaceful. Even in her sleep, she looks happy. Happy in a way he hasn't seen in weeks. He caresses her cheek, and in her sleep she sighs and nuzzles into his palm. His fingers move into her hair and then down to her back, drawing circles on her bare skin.

He smiles. He still doesn't think he deserves her, but for some reason she chose him. He may not ever deserve her, but if she lets him, he'll spend the rest of his life trying.

Because it's definitely better this way.


End file.
